Ironic
by Beautifully Ugly
Summary: JL, oneshot: "First he fancied me. I found him annoying. Then he asked me out endlessly. I declined him. He loved me. I abhorred him. And then he just had to grow up, didn't he? And I just had to bloody fall for him, didn't I?" R


**Author's Note: **Hola, readers! Just a little fic to let you know that I _am_, in fact, alive and well. I got my laptop back two weeks ago (wooo!), and my internet back the day after that. All in all, it was a pretty good week, I must admit, even with the mountain of homework I have.

I got this idea one night as I sat at the laptop reading fanfics, listening to slow, sweet (albeit, slightly depressing) love songs, and I just couldn't get rid of the weight in my stomach. It's still there. Really annoying. Lily's thoughts in this are _slightly_ turbulent, in my opinion, but they relate to mine, if you take out the fact that I have no James that chased after me for six years and that I'm not with the guy I want to be with. Sorry for this long author's note, I can tell you're bored. Let's get on with it then, shall we? Ooh, by the way, please don't forget to review! Your reviews make me smile :)

**Disclaimer:** If you think a girl with nearly black hair, dark brown eyes and a depressing life (i.e. me) could own Harry Potter, you are sadly mistaken. All hail J.K. and her wonderfully imaginative mind.

Dedicated to my best mate, Char, who is currently feeling ill. Hope you get better soon, thriend! (13/10/07)

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Ironic

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It was a silent night. A silent, peaceful, calming night. A perfect night to cuddle up with your boyfriend. I would. If I had one.

A light breeze blew calmly through the open window in the Heads' Common Room, slightly ruffling the pages of the romance novel that I was reading. I'd been going through a reading spree (yes, a reading spree, not a shopping one – shocking, I know!) for quite some time now. And not just _any_ reading spree. A _romance_ reading spree.

Needless to say, I'd borrowed numerous amounts of romance novels from my friends (and from the Muggle section in the library – yes, I know incredibly pathetic. But when you get addicted, you get addicted) and had been reading through them at the speed of lightening. Maybe not _literally_ at the speed of lightening, but still.

Wiping my wet cheeks, I closed Romeo and Juliet, the tragic romance of a forbidden love, sniffling slightly.

I found it terribly ironic that, two months ago, I'd absolutely _hated_ romance novels. Mind you, two months ago I'd not been as unbelievably hormonal as I was tonight. See, two months ago, I'd not been in love. Two months ago, if anyone had even raised the notion that I'd fall hopelessly in love with a certain notorious Marauder by the end of November, I would have scoffed in their face. Two months _later_, the idea wasn't so laughable.

I glanced at the clock; twelve a.m. precisely. Instead of gathering up my collection of romance novels and heading upstairs to my bedroom, I tipped my head backwards, closing my eyes as I exhaled wistfully.

I didn't want to go to bed. I wasn't tired. But if I was staying up, why not do something studious, like homework and such? But, despite the ever-growing pile of homework I had, I didn't even want to even _consider_ doing any of it (and the irony flourishes; if this was me two months ago, I'd have already _finished_ my homework). You know what I _wanted_ to do? I wanted to sit here, in front of the roaring, warm fireplace with a box of tissues, cry whilst reading more sappy romance novels, and sob my heart out because he didn't even seem to fancy me now, let alone _love_ me.

Yes, I was _depressed_, to put it mildly. Depressed beyond belief. And all because of _him_.

Oh, the irony of it all.

See, first he fancied me. I found him annoying. Then he asked me out (endlessly). I declined him cruelly (and endlessly). He loved me. I abhorred him.

And then, he just _had_ to grow up, didn't he? He just _had_ to become the charming prat that he was now. And I just _had_ to bloody fall for him, didn't I? Oh, well done, Lily. You've certainly gone and made a fool out of yourself now.

I was in _such_ a stupidly ironic situation I would have laughed had I been in the frame of mine to do so. Really...

I wanted to scream in frustration, throw my hands up in the air, and at the same time I wanted to leap up, cause a scene, make a fuss, jump on him and snog him senseless. I honestly had no idea why he was making me feel this way. Why, even though I was so miserable, I still wanted to shout out to the world with joy, that I, Lily Evans, was in love with James Potter. He had that effect on me. Made me feel so ecstatic yet heartbroken simultaneously.

Merlin, sod it all. Sod stupid NEWTs, sod falsely cheerful friends, sod the Marauders and their frivolous demeanour. Sod _everything_. But most of all, sod James Potter and the way he made me feel.

I sighed, attempting to swallow that irritating lump at my throat; the one that wasn't high enough so I could swallow it wholly, but remained sufficiently low to constantly remind me of its irking presence. It was dejection, that lump at my throat. Horrifying dejection. My usually sparkling emerald eyes stared dully into the blazing embers in the fireplace their fiery light mirrored emotionlessly in my spheres.

"Lily, is that you?" a low voice queried groggily.

I looked up at the source of the tired tone, completely startled. It was the very person my mind had inevitably been on. Ironic, eh? He just _happened_ to walk in just as I was thinking of him.

My eyes clashed with the hazel of James Potter's drowsy ones, and my heartbeat quickened considerably. _Damn him._ He rubbed his eyes unfocusedly and offered me a sleepy smile, scratching the back of his head as he stretched alluringly. Stifling a yawn with the back of his hand, he glanced briefly at the clock.

"Hey." I returned the smile, but my gaze wandered back to the fire before me as I furiously attempted not to stare at the handsome boy splaying himself on the sofa next to me.

"I thought you'd gone to bed," he said quietly, his intense eyes dancing across my features.

I sneaked a glimpse of him out of the corner of my eyes. His chiselled muscles bulged impressively as he endeavoured to find a comfortable position. His handsome features were gentle, tender, and his hair stuck out at odd angles, but strikingly so.

For a moment, I wondered what it would be like to kiss him, run my hands up his chest, over his strong shoulders, and snake my arms around his neck, pull his body flush against mine, threading my fingers into that wonderfully sexy hair of his…

_Get_ a _grip_, Evans! I scolded myself fiercely, praying to God that the embarrassment burning within me didn't show. You don't have to act like some love-struck idiot! Yet I couldn't help it.

I know. Terribly ironic. But it just _had_ to be so.

Then it occurred to me he was waiting for a reply. Just like me to get lost in thought when the love of my life – i.e. James – (corny, I know, but it's true) began speaking to me.

I shrugged in what I hoped was a nonchalant manner, giving him a shy half-smile, closing my eyes as I did so. Er, was it me or did he just swallow? I couldn't think of an adequate response, so I just contented myself (not really) with sighing and staring into the fireplace once more.

"A penny for your thoughts," said James softly, after a long (_long_) pause. I tilted my head to find him smiling at me slightly. "Mind you, they're worth so much more…" I let out a breath of laughter; I couldn't help it.

Why did he have to be so thoughtful and sensitive, though, the sodding git? Why _now_, when I had a mounting pile of homework? He distracted me! I'd be thinking about those four words for the next two weeks now, trying to analyse them, interpret whether they expressed any hidden devotion or whatnot. _Why did I have to fall for him…?_

Yet another ironic fact: he was now sensitive and mature. See, last year, if he'd caught me sitting in front of the fire in the middle of the night, sighing longingly, he'd instantly say it was because I was hopelessly in love with him and was scared of what would happen to my reputation if I openly admitted it, la-di-da-di-da, and that it was like forbidden love and crap, instead of actually _asking_ me what the matter was. _This_ year, he just _had_ to ask. Prat. It was like he _knew_ what he did to me.

My emerald eyes clashed with his deep hazel ones. They seemed so sincere…

I surrendered; I decided I'd let him in a bit. Not fully, no, I'd be humiliated beyond belief if I did so, but just a little, so he could be there for me. Mind you, _he_ was the reason I was in this state, so him being there for me without knowing what the full cause was would make no sense whatsoever, if you get my drift.

I sighed again. Seemed to be doing a lot of that tonight.

"If I told you there was this boy…" I trailed off at James's expression.

"The vivacious Lily Evans, stumped by a _boy_?" He smirked attractively. "Interesting…" I rolled my eyes, but couldn't help the grin spreading across my lips. "I suppose it happens," he said thoughtfully, and then grinned back. "Go on," he urged me. "So there's this boy…?"

"Um, yeah." I could feel my face reddening under the intensity of his gaze. "And I kind of…like him," my words came out in a rush, and I faced away from him to hide my awkwardness. "But I don't think he fancies me back…"

James nodded seriously, but his jaw tensed.

"Enough said," he said solemnly, and cracked another grin as I giggled. "So," he said casually, and swallowed as if trying to brace himself. "Who's the lucky sod?" I threw him a look whose effects were lessened by my blush. "What?" He laughed. "I'm serious! I want to know who the fortunate fellow is who managed to capture your elusive heart."

"No one," I mumbled, my face growing hotter by the second.

"No one? If I remember correctly, you just mentioned a boy." James chortled at my expression. "Come on, who is this fellow who seems mad enough not to fancy you back, eh? Go on, tell me." I shook my head resolutely, but my mind was reeling.

_Mad enough not to fancy you back…_ Did that mean he still liked me…?

"Fair enough," he said, shaking his head as he smiled. "If it makes you feel any better, I fancy someone, too."

This perked my interest, but I felt a sinking sensation in the pit of my stomach.

_Stop sending me mixed signals, you git!_ First he gives impression he likes me, then he says he likes someone else! _Make your bloody mind up, Potter!_

"Oh?" I asked shakily, hoping I sounded laid-back, knowing I didn't, and hating myself for caring so much.

He nodded gravely, pursing those lips I'd wanted to kiss so _badly_ for a long while.

"And I don't reckon she fancies me back, either," he said lightly, as if we were discussing yesterday's Quidditch match over breakfast. "I've had my eye on her for quite some time now," he admitted, turning his eyes towards the fire.

"Yeah?" I whispered.

He looked at me; our eyes met. He nodded, moving his head a fraction higher so that had I not been watching him with the utmost attention, I would not even have caught the movement.

I know this is crazy, but for a moment I thought that _I_ was the girl he was on about, that he still fancied _me_. And in that tiny, irreversible, minute second, hope grew in my heart, providing me with a sudden courage I didn't know I had inside of me.

"James," I said slowly, praying to God that I wouldn't be mortified beyond belief after my audacity. "Who…who is it?"

He fixed me with a firm stare, but I didn't avert my eyes this time. He blinked.

"Who's what?" he replied innocently, casting his eyes into the fire. I hesitated. He glanced back at me as I tucked a loose tendril of dark crimson behind my ear nervously. "Who's what, Lil?"

"Erm…" I twiddled my thumbs, simply for lack of what to do. "Who…you fancy," I said, my voice just an _octave_ above a whisper. I could just shrivel up and die. I cast my eyes downwards, my face burning. Fried eggs, anyone?

The corners of James's mouth twitched, as if he was restraining himself from smiling. I licked my lips apprehensively.

"I'm not sure you'll be too happy with me," he confessed, after what seemed like bloody _days_. "I don't think you want to know."

All the tenseness evaporated from my body in an instant. I almost scoffed. I smirked, biting my bottom lip to refrain from laughing.

"'Course I want to know," I said, in a voice so soft I was surprised it was escaping my lips in the state I was in. "It's why I asked."

He nodded grimly, and took a deep breath, as if steeling himself.

"I, er…" he faltered, and flicked a hand through his dark, unruly hair. "You see, I…" he trailed off once more. "I – I…" He seemed to be struggling to get the words to flow from his lips. "All right, please don't kill me." He cringed, gulping. "I, er, I sort of…still fancy you…a lot," he added, and then shut his eyes tightly, screwing his face up, awaiting my explosion.

I…he…_what_?

"You – you _what_ now?" I stuttered, my eyes widening. _Dinner plates_, I thought fleetingly. Fry eggs on my face, eat them off my eyes. I'm a little kitchen today, aren't I?

_He fancied me._ Oh my God, he _fancied_ me. He fancied _me_.

He opened his eyes a crack, and upon seeing that I wasn't about to erupt and wasn't red with rage either, he relaxed slightly, opening his eyes fully.

"I…still like you," he said, in a strangled sort of voice.

"I…you…" I blushed fiercely, turning my head once more. "Oh Merlin."

"Wait," he said slowly, unsurely. "You're not upset…" I shook my head abashedly. "Nor are you disgusted." I hung my head, knowing that it was all going to spill in a matter of seconds. "But…_why_?" I met his eyes momentarily before chickening out and staring at the fireplace again. "Lily, why?" His voice had a curious edge to it, and I knew I could not evade this, not anymore, especially not after what he'd just admitted.

I understood how befuddled he was. After all, it had been second nature for me to yell at him when he used to declare his feelings for me.

But I couldn't keep him waiting anymore…

I breathed in deeply, meeting his eyes. He raised his eyebrows expectantly.

"Ok," I said calmly, but licked my lips. "Here's the thing…I've kind-of-sort-of-been-having-feelings-for-you-lately-and-I-felt-like-an-idiot-because-I-didn't-think-you-liked-me-back, and…yeah," I said in a rush, finishing lamely. My face reddened again.

There was a long, awkward pause.

"Um…_what_?" enquired James, a dazed look upon his features. "I didn't…you like…_what_?" He grimaced in his perplexity. I was sure my face clashed _horribly_ with my hair at that moment.

"I kind of, sort of, fancy you," I said more leisurely, averting my eyes from his. Merlin knows what must have been portrayed in them, because I didn't have the guts to look into them.

"You fancy me?" James looked disbelieved. "You…you _fancy me_?" I nodded meekly, and risked a glimpse at him. "I…you…wow…ok…"

I gulped, all too eagerly savouring the silence that had fallen between us, thickening uncomfortably. I leapt to my feet, wanting to get away for a second, busying myself with gathering my romance novels.

But this _was_ a good reaction, right? He liked me, I liked him back. Simple, right? It was to me. He, however, seemed to be having an internal debate with himself then; he would occasionally say words like, "Um…" or "This…er…" or, my personal favourite, "Bloody hell…" Either that, or he was just not very coherent.

"Um, Lily, so…you _fancy_ me?" He gazed at me bewilderedly.

The latter. He wasn't too coherent. I don't blame him one bit, mind. I was still shocked at my nerve and that I'd actually spilled the beans.

"Yeah," I squeaked, pausing in my frenzied attempts to collect the novels.

"But this is…this is…" He was at a loss for words.

"James…?" I asked worriedly, thinking he'd scoff in my face or something similar.

"This is _brilliant_!" An ecstatic smile curved his lips, lighting up his face wholly. "This is bloody brilliant!"

And before I'd even comprehended he'd gotten off the sofa, he was right in front of me, gazing down at me gently.

"Really?" I asked, breathless from our proximity.

Seriously, _damn him_. I couldn't breathe now.

"No, it's not brilliant," he said softly, stroking my cheek gently with his thumb. My face fell. I should have known… He smiled happily. "More than brilliant. It's amazing! I mean, I've fancied you for six whole years…and now you _fancy me back_! How is it _not_ amazing?"

He laughed, a delighted laugh, and suddenly, I found myself laughing, too, pure ecstasy radiating off the both of us. Moments later, our chortles faded into the warm silence.

"Go out with me, Lily?" asked James tentatively. I knew it was the last time he'd ever have to ask. I nodded, beaming.

"Yes," I said lightly, my voice breathy and elated.

He grinned, pulling me into a bone crunchingly (I'll make words up if I please, because there really aren't any words already made up to describe how James held me…) loving embrace, swaying us to silent music. After a moment, we pulled back waveringly, not wanting to let each other go just yet. James's dark, hazel eyes, meeting mine, swirled with elation, wonder, awe, and…_love_. Love for _me_, Lily Evans.

"You're beautiful, you know that?" said James tenderly, inclining his head slowly. "You're so, so beautiful." I blushed, smiling coyly up at him.

"So I've been told," I whispered cheekily, and he let loose a chuckle, tugging me closer to him by the waist. His face grew serious once more.

"I'm going to kiss you now," he said huskily, his eyes flickering over my lips.

"You do that," I breathed, tilting my head so he had better access to my lips.

He leaned in until there was only a soft, small breath of air between them, grinning at my response. Our noses grazing, he stared into my eyes before he kissed my lips lightly, oh so gently, pulling back before I'd even had time to relish the contact. Smirking at the look on my face, he tilted his head and kissed me sweetly again, until all thoughts of everything else rushed out of my mind, replaced by untainted love for the man holding me. Love for my _boyfriend_, James Potter…

So, so ironic… Two months ago, I would never even have _considered_ going out with James. But two months _later_, I _was_ going out with him, completely head-over-heels in love with him, in fact. More than he'd ever comprehend.

Similarly, two months ago, had I been in the same situation I was now, I would have pushed him away instantly, growled at him to "sod off" and "leave me the bloody hell alone".

Two months _later_, I kissed him back, caressing his lips tenderly, _wanting_ to kiss him back, _needing_ him close to me.

And you know what?

I was loving every sodding second of it.

Ironic, eh?


End file.
